No, no, no, I do not want to ask my doctor

An Open Letter to the Pharmaceutical Industry: I like watching sports on TV. In fact, the only things I watch on TV anymore are sports and the History Channel, which I realize makesyou think, “Oooo, middle-aged guy! Just the demographic we’re after. Need some Viagra? Ask your doctor.”

No, I do not need Viagra, thank you very much. (I can’t believe I just said that.) And even if I did, I’d sooner use two Popsicle sticks and some duct tape than “ask my doctor.”

And do you know why?

Because you want me to, that’s why. And I am not about to do because that would only encourage you to run more commercials on the few programs I enjoy watching and thereby ruin them.

I’m especially sick of those commercials for medical products that don’t ever get around to saying what the product is for. Question: If I don’t know what it’s for (follow the logic here) HOW CAN I ASK MY DOCTOR ABOUT IT, YOU IDIOTS!?

Not that I would anyway. The way I see it, if I have to tell my doctor about what medicines he should use on me, then he shouldn’t be my doctor in the first place. I should be HIS doctor.

Doctor: “Andy, this mole worries me. Do you think maybe I should use Zimformax? The commercial said I should ask you.”

Me: “Zimformax is for treating hemorrhoids, but we can try it if you like.”

I wouldn’t mind these commercials nearly as much if they weren’t so stupid.

Seriously, what’s the deal with those bathtubs? The product they advertise is supposed to help a guy forgo the use of the aforementioned Popsicle sticks, right?

Well, if the stuff works so well, shouldn’t those two people, instead of sitting in separate bathtubs, be in one tub together, if you get what I mean?

Also, if you notice, the tubs are always outdoors presumably at some posh resort, meaning there’s no plumbing, meaning someone has to keep filling them with warm water, unless those boobs are sitting there in cold water. Again, if those pills work as advertised, wouldn’t you hate to be the person fetching the water?

“Here’s a warm-up for you, Mr. Johnson. I’ll be back in a …whoa!” You know that person goes home at night every night muttering, “I have GOT to get another job.”

Another commercial I’m especially tired of is that one where the guys sit around in a garage singing about their Quicker Picker Upper medicine. Guys would never, ever do that. Seriously, if my guy friends suddenly broke into song about that, I’d find new friends.

And since I’m ranting, here’s another thing: If we must have these products on TV, could you at least keep the names a little more obtuse or medical sounding? I mean, honestly, Flomax? You couldn’t be a little more subtle than that? Was Pee A Lot taken?

You may think I’m kidding around about all this, but I am not. Until these commercials started, I had no idea my fellow man was such a wreck. Now when I walk around I think, “Wonder what embarrassing problem HE’S got? Bet he’s an enlarged prostate. Gotta go,gotta go, gotta go right now.”

Yes, I really do that. I have one of those brains that is highly susceptible to slogans and jingles. To this day I can repeat the Whopper song. You probably can, too, which is why you’re mentally singing it right now.

The only way for me to stop these images, thoughts and jingles from running through my head is to stop watching sports and history on TV, which I don’t want to do because, frankly, by the time I get around to TV in the evening I’m pretty tired and worn out.